Lies Like This
by tider58
Summary: Santana Lopez is not a lesbian. (Except that she is.) One-shot, Brittana, angst.


Santana Lopez is not a lesbian. _(Except that she is.)_

She likes guys. _("Like" is a strong word, and how can anyone be turned on by people who are so damn easy to manipulate?)_

She's had a lot of sex with them. _(But being with Brittany is so, so much better.)_

She thinks that one day she'll probably choose one, the best-looking, smartest, richest, most popular one, and settle into a relationship worthy of her time and effort. It takes a lot of time and effort to cultivate the sort of cool aloofness she's perfected, and she won't waste it on just anyone. _(She wouldn't have to worry about that with Britt; Britt knows her real face and there's never a reason to act when they're together.)_

She'll probably get married one day, walk down the aisle on her father's arm, wear the white gown, all that jazz, and her brief flirtation with confusing thoughts and feelings from high school will be a distant memory, one that's not important and maybe never was, just part of growing up and figuring things out. _(No regrets, though, never regrets.)_

Brittany will stand at her side as maid of honor. _(Except for that regret, that one right there.)_

Santana will hand her bouquet to her best friend _(wishing she were the one standing on the other side of her, in the space currently occupied by this guy Santana is supposed to spend her life with)_

and flash a smile _(but not the deep, dazzling, dimpled one, not the real one, because this isn't high school and she is losing a piece of herself)_

and take his hands in hers _(even though all she really wants to do is turn her back on him and take Brittany's)_

and repeat the words the priest is saying _(replacing his name with Brittany's, picturing Brittany's eyes instead of his, feeling Brittany's presence at her back like a gravitational pull that Santana just can't resist … )_

 _(But she will.)_

She'll jump head-first into the white-picket-fence life and that guy she married will work hard and keep her in designer shoes and nice cars and housekeepers and maybe more booze than is necessarily prudent. _(She'll pretend to be happy for the first year or so, but then it will get too exhausting and she'll let the mask slip and just go on existing and the kicker is that he won't even notice.)_

Her friends will, though. _(In her nightmare-fantasy they're all still around, those Glee kids who've redefined everything about everything, even despite her best efforts to hate them.)_

"Santana, want to take the lead on this one?" Kurt will ask at karaoke night, and she'll shake her head and nod to Rachel and Rachel will surprise exactly no one when she grins and takes the mic and sings the roof off the place. _(Santana misses singing; she lost her voice somewhere along the way.)_

Kurt and Mercedes will share a look, and Santana will know it's about her so she'll reach way, way down into her bag of personas and pull out High School Santana so that if either of them is bold _(stupid)_ enough to confront her about anything, or try to have a moment, she'll be ready to shoot them down with a sharp word, a raised eyebrow, a look that dares them to dig any deeper. _(She knows they won't; she used to be a pretty scary bitch and they remember as well as she does—probably better.)_

"Have you talked to Brittany lately?" Kurt will ask, and she will try to kill him with her eyes. _(She hasn't and she won't, because Britt is married now and Santana has spent a large part of the past few months pretending she doesn't know that, or doesn't care.)_

"She hated that you couldn't make it to the wedding, Santana," he continues, and it's like he _wants_ her to stab him in the neck with her cocktail garnish. _(Mercedes is watching them out of the corner of her eye and Santana knows she's ready to jump in front of Kurt if needed but Santana left the violence behind a long time ago, too.)_

"All right, Lady Hummel, I think the Hobbit needs backup," Santana will say, her voice light and casual to the untrained ear ( _but to those who are fluent in Santana, it's self-defense, pleading, panic, fight-or-flight)._

He'll go, because Lord knows neither of those two can resist a spotlight and a stage, and Mercedes will offer to buy Santana another drink, and what passes between them may be unspoken _("I know you're hurting, but I won't pry," say Mercedes' eyes; "Thank you," say Santana's)_ but it's still loud and clear and powerful, an understanding and an acceptance of something long unresolved.

All of this will happen, and that pledge of no regrets she will have made on her wedding day? It will be a joke because there's nothing _but_ regret once you realize the time to act has passed you by and it's never, never going to be okay.

But you know what? _(Santana pulls the old familiar lie around herself like a blanket, smoothing the wrinkles, noting its unraveling seams and frayed edges, thinking vaguely that she'll need to replace it at some point.)_

This is the way it's supposed to be. _(This is not the way it's supposed to be.)_

She likes guys. _("Like" is a strong word.)_

She likes having sex with them. _(Being with Brittany is the best thing that she's ever experienced and even if she lives to be a hundred nothing will ever compare.)_

She'll probably get married one day. To a guy. _(The alternative isn't on the table.)_

Brittany is just her friend. Her best friend. _(Soulmate.)_

Santana Lopez is not a lesbian. _(And that's the biggest lie of all.)_


End file.
